by Karen Meikle
I have started this post over a hundred times. The sadness just overwhelms me and I find it hard to articulate. To share. But I feel I must. Catharsis if you will. You see I should be an imperfect Mum to more than just Rory.
I have recently suffered my second miscarriage and I'm finding it desperately hard.
The first pregnancy was a happy surprise. I didn't even realise I was pregnant until I was 7 weeks but Simon and I were delighted. It was the following week that I noticed the light-headed feeling had left me. My familiar pregnancy symptom. The thought of a glass of wine didn't turn my stomach. I didn't feel pregnant. I could forget.
With Rory I felt pregnant every second of every day. I knew something was wrong. I just felt it in my heart. It was a week later I started bleeding. A Saturday. I had to wait until the Monday for a scan to confirm I was losing my child. The sonographer was silent as she scanned.
The seconds felt like hours as I willed her to speak yet dreaded her words. "I'm very sorry....". The baby had stopped growing a few weeks earlier. My body had now realised and I was miscarrying naturally. We were given information and sent home to allow my body to complete the process. Process sounds like such a harsh word.
I didn't know how to describe it. Words didn't matter. The next 48 hours were filled with despair, fear and sadness.
I was scared of what I would see. That's the bit nobody talks about. I called my friend who was graphic and factual. Exactly what I needed at that time.
After the miscarriage I picked myself up and carried on. I had to. I couldn't cry in front of Rory. He needed me. I fell pregnant again within a few months. We were hopeful yet nervous. But once again I had a cloud over me. I didn't feel pregnant. Sure enough around the same time as the previous pregnancy the bleeding started again. I went for a scan to confirm what I already knew. I had not prepared myself for what followed. The sonographer could see a heartbeat. "Congratulations. I can see a heartbeat. I think you must have just got your dates wrong as baby is only about 5 weeks". I felt like she had slapped me in the face. I knew two things.The first one was that my dates weren't wrong. The second was that I was losing my baby.
I left the room devastated. Confused. Shocked. Horrified. We returned home and within a few hours I had miscarried again. I didn't understand. How could we have seen a heartbeat a few hours ago? Why couldn't I carry my babies safely? How could my body have failed me on such a tremendous scale?
Three months on and I have no answers. I am grieving for my children that never were and I am sad that I will never again experience the joy of a carefree pregnancy like I had with Rory.
We would love to have more children. And I know that a positive pregnancy test is only just the beginning of a long journey towards holding another child. But all we can do is hope. It's all we have.
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